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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29238036">Something More</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly'>matchstick_dolly</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Missing Pieces [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lucifer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Fuckruary 2021, Fuckruary 2021: New Ship, Fuckruary 2021: The Outsider, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Insecurity, Jed is a sweet cornboy who just wants to DJ and love Cherry Jane, POV Jed, Poignant, Pre-Canon, Pre-Season/Series 01, Sexual Content, a lesson on Manic Pixie Dream Girls, a tale of how some relationships prepare you for others, somewhere in this God is a dick, unfortunately Cherry Jane is a hot mess destined for a chaotic disaster of a man and it shows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:53:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,307</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29238036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after Jed Moore moves to Los Angeles to follow his dreams, he meets Jane Decker, a girl who loves a mystery—and is a mystery herself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chloe Decker/Jed Moore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Missing Pieces [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2148723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Something More</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/pseuds/MoanDiary">MoanDiary</a> for a pre-read, considering almost no one is going to read this character study of Chloe. 😂</p><p>For the <a href="https://fuckruarychallenge.tumblr.com/">Fuckruary 2021</a> prompts: Undercover Hookup (with a twist), Chloe's (in this case shitty studio) apartment, "I just want to feel something real."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The three hundred dollars in Jed's pocket felt like a million. Paradoxically, it was also nothing—total chump change in Los Angeles. But Jed was from Grand Island, Nebraska, a place that was neither particularly grand nor islandlike, where three hundred dollars stretched a lot further. Knowing he would struggle to make rent next month didn't seem real or matter to him at all. This was the most he'd made from a gig yet, solid proof that following his dreams to L.A. had been the right decision. He could do this. He <em>was</em> doing this.</p><p>His high led him into the first coffee shop he saw. He didn't even like coffee. He just wanted to spend some money. </p><p>Voltage was packed with people tapping away on laptops and gathering for local meetups. He glanced at a group of women in athletic wear and tried not to let his eyes wander to places that would disappoint his mother. Making his way to the front counter, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the red menu board. There had to be something here that wasn't coffee or hot chocolate.</p><p>Someone laughed loudly at the other end of the café, drawing his attention. It was a total bark of a laugh that was impossible to ignore. Jed's eyes scanned the three red-aproned employees huddled near the espresso machines and finally landed on the source of the laughter as she bent forward under the strength of her mirth. There were lots of beautiful women in L.A., including many who attended his shows, but this girl… This girl gave him tunnel vision. She was gorgeous—slender and blond, but it was the wide smile lighting up her face that pulled him in.</p><p>Ignoring the barista who was trying to help him, he walked directly to the end of the counter, toward the only person he could see. She turned away from her coworkers as he neared, her lips settling into a more neutral, customer-facing smile. The way she looked at him, <em>studied</em> him, with just a quick flick of her blue eyes, gave him a total rush.</p><p>Jed glanced at her name tag. "Hi, Jane," he said, trying to excise Nebraska from his accent, "can I get an, uh..." Oh, shit. He couldn't order juice now. "A macchiato?" What the hell was a macchiato?</p><p>Smirking, Jane nodded her chin at the end of the counter he'd left behind. "You know you order down there, right?"</p><p>He smiled and shrugged. "Can you make an exception?" </p>
<hr/><p>The thing about L.A., Jed soon learned, was it turned on people. Some days, it felt like home, and home felt like the center of the universe. Other days, it was cold and cutthroat. Maybe L.A. was all of that, every day, but he'd been too much of a starry-eyed hick to see it at first. </p><p>Everything was falling apart. His last three shows had barely paid in food, his part-time job at the guitar shop had cut his hours, he had credit card debt for the first time in his life (on his first credit card ever), and his roommate had announced he was moving in with his girlfriend. After he'd already done it. Asshole.</p><p>Needing a respite from the implosion of his personal life, Jed went to Voltage with his last ten dollars—well, if you were willing to overlook the debt. He wasn't sure why. He still didn't like coffee, and it wasn't like he'd worked up the courage to ask Jane out yet. Even if he had, he couldn't take her anywhere fun unless she considered watching him DJ at a crappy bar a good time. </p><p>The problem was he got in his own head. He knew it, but couldn't stop. Back home, offstage, he was not DJ Karnal. He was just...Jed Moore. He woke at 4:00 a.m. every day, cranked up EDM and trap on his old iPod, and fed chickens and hauled feed to help on his grandpa's farm. At school, he was <em>cute</em>, not hot. A band geek, not a star athlete. He'd played the oboe.</p><p>Jane, meanwhile, was born and raised in L.A. and therefore completely out of his league. But even knowing this, when he entered Voltage, and she smiled at him, he felt a little better, at least until he ran out of small talk and had to sit down with his macchiato.</p><p>Fighting the pages of a newspaper into submission, he circled another job in the classifieds while forcing down bitter coffee. Things were looking pretty bad—sell plasma for money bad.</p><p>The red of a Voltage employee apron slipped past his periphery in a blur. A moment later, Jane plopped down on the chair across from him. </p><p>"You don't like coffee," she accused.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Could the ground just swallow him up already?</p><p>"Every day you come in here and order a macchiato, but you make a face whenever you drink it. You don't like it."</p><p>"I don't make a face." He tried so hard not to make a face.</p><p>Her lips flattened into a line. Snatching up his nearly-full coffee cup, she lifted it and pantomimed sipping before screwing up her face in disgust. "That's you," she said, sliding the cup back.</p><p>"Okay, yeah, it's not my favorite drink." </p><p>She leaned forward, crushing the edge of the newspaper. "Just admit you've seen it and that's why you come here," she whispered sharply.</p><p>Jed's brows climbed high on his forehead. Now he really was confused. "Seen <em>what</em>?"</p><p>They stared at each other. Slowly, Jane turned her head and squinted at him out of the corner of her eyes. Like she was solving a puzzle.</p><p>"So you come here and order a drink you don't like because…"</p><p>He swallowed and tried to channel the confidence he felt when he was on stage. Even when the crowds were small and lackluster, it was his space, and he knew he could win them over. He just needed to be DJ Karnal. </p><p>"I like the company," he answered, and could hardly believe the words had come out of his mouth.</p><p>Jane's smile was beatific. He should ask her out, he thought, but there was a distinct possibility he would faint if he tried. </p><p>Then the unexpected happened, and L.A. became home again.</p><p>"You know, there's a burger and shake place down the road from here," Jane said. "My shift ends in fifteen minutes if you want to—"</p><p>"Definitely." </p><p>He'd use his credit card if he had to.</p>
<hr/><p>It took several weeks, but things got better. He got a new roommate, and a third job to claw his way out of debt. And most days he saw Jane Decker. She was pretty and funny and a good kind of weird—a smart kind that kept him on his toes. She was still out of his league.</p><p>There was no label on what they were, but he didn't think they were dating. They were just friends, and maybe that was for the best. He needed a friend, especially someone who knew L.A. better than he did. And Jane seemed lonely in her own way. </p><p>A couple of times a week, they went on walks, usually down by the water because beaches were still novel to him and because she preferred to avoid crowds. He told her about his family and his old pet hen—Nugget—and she shared her friend's juicy gossip about the movie industry. Jane never spoke about her own family. She rarely mentioned her past at all. And he wasn't dumb enough to go digging for info. Not yet. That seemed a surefire way to screw up something good.</p><p>Tonight they were on the beach with a box of pizza and a six-pack of beer. Their jeans were rolled up to their calves, and there was nowhere else he'd rather be. </p><p>"How's the coffee shop?" he asked. Now that he could text her whenever he wanted, and she knew he hated coffee, there was no need to waste his money at Voltage. </p><p>"Oh, I quit."</p><p>"What? Wow. When?" </p><p>She shrugged. "On Monday." </p><p>"What happened?"</p><p>"Uh… I happened? Again." She huffed an exasperated laugh. "I've been...trying new things these last few years." </p><p>"That's not a bad thing, is it?"</p><p>"Maybe." Her smile was tight, and he could tell he was nearing some tender nerve. "I've, um, taken a lot of odd jobs. <em>You</em> just happened to meet me at a normal one."</p><p>Digging his toes deeper into the sand, he sipped his beer to hide what he felt might be a dopey smile. "Well, I'm glad I did."</p><p>"Yeah." <em>Her</em> smile was perfect, soft, and painted gold by sunset. "Me too."</p><p>"So where to next, Jane?"</p><p>"No idea," she sighed, "but I had a few interviews today. Secretary for an accountant's office, a waitressing gig… Oh! And yesterday I interviewed for a job at this fringe history museum?"</p><p>"Fringe history museum." He grinned.</p><p>"Yeah. Totally weird. They have sections on ghosts and, like, Area 51," she snickered, talking with her hands. "And there was this one room"—her eyes crinkled at their corners as she laughed harder—"they called it <em>the red room</em>, and it was just, uh, <em>Satan</em>?"</p><p>Now he was laughing. "Satan in history?"</p><p>"There was <em>so</em> much nudity." She blinked and rolled her eyes. "And a lot of goats? I don't get the goat head thing."</p><p>"You have to take the job if they offer it. Imagine the kinds of people you'll meet." </p><p>She snorted. "I think that's beyond my acting abilities." Flipping the top of the pizza box, she teared off another triangle of pepperoni pizza. "Anyway, I'd feel like I was helping run a scam. Not that I get how anyone can believe in that stuff." </p><p>Man, he sure wasn't in Grand Island anymore.</p><p>"I grew up religious," he said, which was a complete understatement. Five years ago, he'd played Jesus in an Easter Sunday skit. His grandma kept a framed photo of him on the "cross" on top of her china cabinet. </p><p>"Oh." She blanched. "Sorry." </p><p>"It's cool." Jed smiled. "I believe in God," he revealed, "but I don't know about the rest." </p><p>"Not what I expected from DJ <em>Karnal</em>," she teased. </p><p>He shrugged. Faith was complicated. "What about you? You don't believe?"</p><p>She glanced at him cautiously while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "In God? No. At least, I don't have any reason to."</p><p>"I guess I just think everything happens for a reason, you know? That feels like God to me." </p><p>When he looked at his life and music, he saw a strange sort of patchwork quilt. It wasn't woven in all the ways or with all the pieces he might expect, but there was <em>something</em> there. He was sure of it.</p><p>The expression on Jane's face darkened. "I <em>definitely</em> don't think everything happens for a reason," she snapped, and tilted back her beer. She drank deeply before dragging her wrist across her mouth. "Why do people <em>say</em> that to each other? Why would you say that to <em>me</em>? You don't know anything about me."</p><p>Jed's eyes widened. "I'm just talking about my life."</p><p>"Yeah, well, if you think it happens in your life, you imply it happens in everyone else's. And it doesn't, okay? It just doesn't. And if it <em>does</em>? Well, I don't want anything to do with your God, then."</p><p>Fuck. He'd really stepped in it. "Sorry," he murmured, thinking that was the safest thing to say now. "I don't know wh—"</p><p>"My dad died a few years ago," she interrupted, her eyes glued to the horizon. "When I was nineteen."</p><p>"Shit." Shit, shit, shit.</p><p>"Yeah." She settled her elbows on her knees and gripped her beer bottle with both hands. Tears gathered and sparkled on her eyelids. "Some guy killed him. Robbery gone wrong. You think that happened for a reason?"</p><p>Jed stared at her, completely out of his depth. "I hope not," he admitted, and wrestled with his morality in the face of her loss. This secret revealed a lot about Jane—the unwillingness to talk about her past, the aimless wandering from one job to the next. "Did they get him?" he asked.</p><p>"He's in prison," she confirmed. A tear slid down her cheek and fell to her lap. She scrubbed at her face in annoyance. "I hope he rots."</p><p>"I'm sorry," he said again. </p><p>Slowly lifting an arm to broadcast his intentions, he wrapped it around her shoulders when she didn't pull away. There was a steel to her posture he hadn't noticed before and didn't entirely know what to do with, but he held on. </p>
<hr/><p>Rathbone's had a bluesy biker bar vibe that wasn't meant for dance raves. Worse, it was Tuesday, and the scuffed black floor was open to all ages. But Jed wasn't one to throw in the towel. He got the techs to crank up the bass and get a little creative with the lights, and then the rest was up to him, his music, and the small crowd—half of whom didn't look like they even knew what a rave was. They'd just wandered in from the street for something to do. </p><p>He was nervous as he worked at his mixer, jumped to the beat, and goaded everyone to move. Most of all, he was nervous knowing Jane was only a few feet away from the stage. It was her first show with him, and it was kind of a dud, but she was dancing, anyway, more by herself or toward the stage than with anyone else. He caught her sometimes, eyes sweeping the crowd with suspicion, but he thought she was having fun. She'd even dressed for a good time in tiny black shorts and a baggy black mesh crop top that revealed the lime green sports bra beneath it. Her long hair was pulled back in two pigtails she'd braided with neon purple ribbons.</p><p>Hot L.A. rave girl dancing to <em>his</em> music? It was DJ Karnal's teenage fantasy come true.</p><p>The flow of the music overcame Jed's nerves. The thing he liked about EDM was it could be soft or hard, but no matter what, it demanded people move and feel and have a good time. It was alive to him in a way the music he'd grown up around hadn't been. He was a long way from Nebraska, but here, in a show's limbo, he found his real home. He carried the crowd through the sounds and got a rush every time someone mirrored his motions or couldn't stop smiling into the flashing lights. This was it. This was everything. The connection between strangers. The connection between people like Jane and him. </p><p>When his last song of the night finished on a loud, crashing burst of sound, he yelled his thanks to those who'd stayed for the whole show, and they clapped and yelled their happiness.</p><p>But it was a Tuesday night, and most everyone was sober. No one lingered. </p><p>Jed flashed Jane a smile as she hopped onto the stage while he was packing up his mixer. He turned to her and was caught off guard when she threw herself toward him in a sweaty hug. <em>Just friends</em> went out the window as her curves pressed against him. </p><p>"You were great!" she gushed, a little too loudly in the silence that had followed the concert. </p><p>"You think?" he laughed, holding on to her arms to be sure his fantasy was real. "Crowd was kinda lame, though."</p><p>She bared her teeth in an awkward smile and shrugged. "The venue could have been better, but you'll play better ones."</p><p>They let go of each other, and she helped him finish packing. Rathbone's owner swung by the stage with Jed's cut from the night: a whopping one hundred dollars. Things would improve when he could afford a designer to get a better logo and some merch going. Until then, he'd keep getting screwed whenever rent came due. But as he stood with Jane beneath the dimmed stage lights, he couldn't give a damn. </p><p>"Wanna get a bite to eat?" he offered, waving wilted twenties. </p>
<hr/><p>Jed stumbled through the concrete hallway to Jane's apartment, his hand beneath the mesh of her crop top, her tongue in his mouth, tasting of the boozy strawberry shake they'd shared at a diner. Laughing and pulling away suddenly, she turned to an apartment door with her keys. The hall was poorly lit, and it took three tries to get her key in the keyhole, which made them snicker through their nervous jitters.</p><p>She lived in a nothing studio, sleeping on a daybed he'd struggle to fit on and living out of stacked cube shelves, but at least the space was her own and private. She yanked her mesh top over her head as he closed the door. He dragged off his shirt, and she grinned brightly at the small turntable tattooed on his chest. </p><p>They were pent up after months of chaste flirting and the high of a concert, and kissed each other roughly, their hands tearing at clothes. When they were naked and lit by Jane's sole bedside lamp, she squirmed restlessly and grabbed his hand to guide it between her legs. </p><p>His mouth fell open as his fingers met slick heat. "Damn, Jane."</p><p>"I may have a thing for musicians," she admitted with a laugh.</p><p>"Oh, yeah?" He slid his hand lower. "Imagine what it'll be like when I put on a show that's actually good," he joked, and she laughed against him, and he knew. He knew he was in love with her. He'd never been in love before, and it felt like a cataclysmic shift. </p><p>Sex with Jane was rough and wild, a playful fight where positions changed at a moment's notice. In the end, she sat atop him, rolling her hips, one hand working between her legs, her braided pigtails shifting with her restless energy. Jed was sure he'd never seen anyone more beautiful. </p><p>He glided his hands from her hips, up to her breasts, which he squeezed and held. Jane's grinding slowed to a halt as she looked at where he touched her. Beneath the soft light of her bedside lamp, he saw her eyes turn glassy.</p><p>"<em>Hey</em>." Her focus shifted to his face as he carefully removed his hands from her, giving her as much as space as he could, given he was hard as a rock inside her. "You okay?"</p><p>"Yeah," she squeaked. Shaking her head emphatically, she grabbed his hands and drew them back to her. He held her breasts, and she held her hands over his, and it might have been hot, if not for the haunted expression on her face. "I just—sorry. You're just <em>really</em> nice."</p><p>"Other guys haven't been?" he guessed, and hated them for it.</p><p>"Not always," she said, "but it's complicated."</p><p>Jed didn't see how. You were either good to women or you weren't. "Well, it's not with me," he said, his heart pounding.</p><p>She sank close to him, then, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, legs straddled around hips. They moved slower now, her nose pressed to his neck.</p><p>After, Jane curled into his side and traced the turntable on his breast with a pointer finger. Jed gazed around the small studio, greedily absorbing her closely-held secrets. The bookmarked mystery novel on her coffee table, the knick knacks on her shelves, the half-dead plant on the windowsill. A small breakfast table wedged next to her kitchenette was covered in drawing papers, colored pencils, and paints.</p><p>"I didn't know you were an artist," he said through a yawn.</p><p>She leaned up on an elbow and followed his gaze. "Oh. I'm not. I just do that for fun."</p><p>But when they rose and took turns in her bathroom, Jed stopped to look at the illustrations. She liked symbols, flowers, and colorful patterns, and to his untrained and biased eye she seemed pretty good. He smiled when she exited her bathroom in nothing but an oversized...LAPD t-shirt? She'd loosened her braids, and her hair draped around her shoulders in waves.</p><p>Jed put an arm around her as she joined him by her kitchen table. "I could use some help with a logo," he admitted. </p>
<hr/><p>Dating in Nebraska, what little of it Jed had done before leaving, had never gone well. Life was different in Grand Island—not better or worse, but simpler, smaller. People got together and thought of marriage and babies before they even really had a chance to know each other. Sometimes that worked out, and sometimes it didn't, but marriage and babies had never really clicked with who he was as a DJ.</p><p>With Jane, it was easy. One day they were friends; the next, friends and lovers. Nothing more needed to be said or decided. They had dinner together, she attended more of his shows, and they had fun at night. He fixed her kitchen sink when her landlord wouldn't and watched over her when she got her wisdom teeth removed. She drew him a new logo, which he wasn't sold on, and then another, which he loved.</p><p>They were good together, real good, but... But sometimes he couldn't shake the feeling that he was still missing something, like maybe she hadn't told him the whole story about her dad. Like there might be reasons for why she spooked easily in crowds and didn't have a lot (or any?) friends. Sometimes he couldn't get a read on her at all.</p><p>But why the rock boat? He'd give her time to open up, and he needed space himself as his music and brand began to take off. The venues got bigger and better, and he got out of debt, and then Facebook events changed everything. Almost overnight, he had a following, people sharing blurry phone pics and videos far and wide. </p><p><em>Beats &amp; Grooves Magazine</em> was doing an article on him. Professional photographs and everything, and the sampler CD going out with the next issue would have one of his tracks on it. Where that might take him, only time would tell, but he was hoping for a major label deal and all that would come with it. Sometimes he dreamed of touring, of Jane stuffed into a tour bus with him.</p><p>"How do I look?" he asked, obsessively parting his hair in front of his bathroom mirror.</p><p>Jane grinned at his reflection. "You know you look good." </p><p>"I think I should shave. I should shave, right?"</p><p>Grabbing his elbow, she turned him toward her and touched the side of his face, lightly raking her nails through coarse hair. "I like the stubble," she said. "You should keep it."</p><p>"Keep it, huh?" She hummed an affirmative as she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed a line up his throat. "Sure you don't want your picture taken with me?" he asked, running his hands through her hair. "The editor okayed it, and I feel like the girl behind the logo should get some credit. I couldn't have done any of this without you."</p><p>She pulled away. "That's not true," she chastised. "Anyway, I don't want my picture in anything."</p><p>He shrugged. "Wanna come watch them take mine, anyway? You can make funny faces at me behind the photographer."</p><p>"That's okay." Her smile was tight as she turned toward the mirror and began rearranging her hair into a sloppy bun. "Think I'll read more of that book you got me."</p><p>With the spare change he had now, he often wandered into used bookstores to buy her mysteries and thrillers. She devoured them faster than he could get them sometimes, and more often than not when they were together, he fell asleep by lamplight as she stayed up in the wee hours of the morning to read.</p><p>Jane loved a good mystery, so much so that she sometimes felt like one come to life.</p>
<hr/><p>"Wait," Chloe said through laughter, "how old was your sister?"</p><p>"Fourteen."</p><p>"Okay, no one that old should still believe in Santa."</p><p>"No," Jed agreed with a chuckle, "but when your family goes to the trouble of having"—he flicked his fingers in air quotes—"<em>reindeer hooves</em> clop on the rooftop, it's hard to know what's real."</p><p>They walked along Hillhurst Avenue in the warm spring evening, half-eaten ice cream cones in hand. </p><p>"Your family sounds fun."</p><p>"They're pretty good." And he missed them. Glancing at Jane out of the corner of his eye as she licked at her salted caramel ice cream, he thought he sensed an opening to dig into her past. "So, what about you? Any funny Christmas stories with your family?"</p><p>Her face shuttered. "Not really."</p><p>Jed sighed. "Why are you so...cagey about all this?"</p><p>"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice high with guilt.</p><p>"We've been dating for months." They'd known each other for about eight. "And I still haven't met your mom." </p><p>"Well, she's a busy lady."</p><p>"Yeah, she travels for work. You've said." But he didn't even know her mom's <em>name</em> or enough about her dad to look up an old article about his death. The sweet ice cream was suddenly too much, and he tossed the remaining few bites of his cone into a trash can. Taking hold of Jane's elbow, he drew them to a stop beside a colorful row of metal newspaper stands. She looked up at him, her expression tremulous. "We've been dating for months—we basically live on top of each other."</p><p>Jane tilted her head and smirked. "I like when we're on top of each other."</p><p>"Yeah, okay, me too," Jed laughed, "but we're more than that, right? I want to meet your mom."</p><p>She rolled her eyes. "Why? I'm not even that close to her, and it's not like I've met your family, either."</p><p>That was <em>such</em> a different thing, he almost laughed in her face. Instead, he called her bluff. "Yeah, you're right." He shrugged as he nodded. "You should meet them. Let's go on a road trip."</p><p>"What, to <em>Nebraska</em>?" she spluttered, eyes widening.</p><p>"Yeah, why not?"</p><p>"Uh, I can think of several reasons," she snorted, but didn't elaborate as she turned and started walking—marching—down the sidewalk once more. </p><p>He followed. "Okay, not Nebraska, then, but let's go somewhere." Now that he thought about it, he realized he needed to shake things up a bit. They needed to get to know each other better, and that wasn't happening in L.A.</p><p>"Jed, I have work."</p><p>"And you'll probably quit those jobs in a month or two."</p><p>"Thanks for pointing out my commitment issues," she said dryly.</p><p>"Is it really so bad I want to get to know you?"</p><p>They stopped again. Several people passed them on the sidewalk, eyeing their obvious lover's quarrel with a combination of unease and interest. </p><p>"Can't we just <em>be</em>?" Jane countered. "We're having fun."</p><p>The problem was...he wanted more than fun. He wanted to wake up to her every morning in a place they shared together. He wanted her hair on his pillow and all their clothes in one closet. Hell, he'd take her snoring in his ear. Maybe even DJ Karnal was still just a Grand Island boy, thinking about settling down. Whatever was behind these feelings, he at least wanted to know his fucking girlfriend beyond the nice bits and pieces she fed him. </p><p>Jane sighed, sensing the impasse. "I don't want to meet your family yet, but...we can do the road trip, I guess, if we can organize it. Where do you want to go if we're not going to Nebraska?" She said the state name like it was the most absurd destination imaginable.</p><p>"What about Oregon?" he suggested. "I've never been up the coast."</p><p>"Okay. If we can figure stuff out here—"</p><p>"We will," he said, already willing to cash in his savings. </p><p>There was no other choice, as far as he was concerned. He needed some new way, some new place, to help him solve the mystery that was Jane Decker. Or it was going to drive him crazy.</p>
<hr/><p>California's winding coast was breathtaking. The pristine beaches and the crashing waves of the vast Pacific reaffirmed Jed's belief in God. There was no way the world beneath his feet, the girl by his side, were here by random chance. </p><p>They stopped frequently on their way north to explore beachside towns or enjoy the water, to eat sandwiches unearthed from a cooler bag and makeout beneath the purple and orange light of perfect sunsets. They'd bought a cheap digital camera for the trip and took photos of each other, both as a couple and alone. They made silly faces or looked toward the horizon in feigned pensiveness. Maybe one of the pictures would find a place in the cover art for his upcoming album. Maybe the one of Jane from behind as she walked into the water like she was headed for a baptism.</p><p>His plan was working. The farther he took Jane from L.A., the more she opened up. He'd heard more stories about her father in the last two days of being on the road than he had in all the other months of knowing her. He wondered how her pain still seemed so fresh after so many years, but he tried to be good and simply listen.</p><p>In San Francisco, they traversed the Golden Gate Bridge, took the streetcars along steep hills, and stayed in a fancy hotel they could barely afford, where they lay in bed and ordered room service they <em>definitely</em> couldn't afford. </p><p>They continued on the 101, up to Oregon, a place which reminded Jed of Nebraska, if only more temperate and lush with evergreens. Things were simpler here, smaller. </p><p>From where she reclined in the passenger seat of Jed's black Nissan, with dark sunglasses covering her eyes and bare toes resting on the edge of the dash, Jane leaned forward suddenly and pointed to their right. On the side of the road, a cardboard sign had been stabbed into a small hill. </p><p>SWEET CHERRIES, 1 MILE AHEAD. </p><p>The look of excitement on Jane's face made him laugh. "You want cherries?"</p><p>"I <em>love</em> fresh cherries."</p><p>The cherry stand was indeed roughly a mile ahead. A buxom, middle-aged white woman in a sunhat had set up on the side of the road with a scale and a foldout table full of loose, yellow-and-red cherries. Jed parked carefully on the road's shoulder, and the woman smiled and waved as they got out of the car. She put down a paperback with a brawny, bare-chested man on its cover as they neared. </p><p>"Two dollars a pint," she said. "Picked 'em from my farm up the road this morning."</p><p>Jane didn't need any more information. She eagerly raked handfuls of cherries into one of the paper bags set out for that purpose.</p><p>"Can you eat that many?" Jed asked in disbelief.</p><p>"Hey," the woman with the sunhat said, squinting, "aren't you that girl from the movie?"</p><p>Jane's sack of cherries dropped to the table with a smack. "Huh?" Shaking her head, she snatched up her bag and twisted it closed.</p><p>"You know," the woman continued, now wagging a finger, "the movie about the high school girl! It was so funny!"</p><p>"Uh… Not sure what movie you're talking about." </p><p>"Really? Well, gosh, you look so much like the girl in it. I wish I could remember the name—something like <em>High School Heartthrob</em>?" </p><p>Jane thrust a wrinkled twenty and her bag of cherries forward. "Can I get these?"</p><p>"Well <em>that</em> was weird," Jed muttered, as they watched the woman go to her car and dig into a money box to break the twenty-dollar bill.</p><p>"Mm-hmm," Jane said, stuffing a cherry into her mouth.</p><p>They bid the woman farewell and turned back to Jed's car. He frowned and watched the way his boots separated the blades of grass as he walked. What <em>was</em> all that about back there?</p><p>"Hey, wanna see a party trick?" Jane said, disrupting his thoughts as they paused beside the car.  </p><p>He looked up. She was clearly already working at it. Her lips pinched into an almost kiss, and her jaw worked, jerking back and forth, like she was a cow chewing cud. Whatever she was doing was taking some time, and she rolled her eyes at herself and then crossed them at him. He laughed with her, completely bewildered.</p><p>Several more moments passed before she opened her mouth and stretched her pink tongue past her lips. A cherry stem, curled into a figure eight, sat at the tip of her tongue like a bow. Reaching up, she removed it from her mouth and held it between thumb and forefinger for him to see. Jed stared at it, his own mouth dropping open. </p><p>She'd tied a knot. She'd tied a fucking <em>knot</em>. </p><p>"I didn't know people actually did that," he admitted, his head filled with about a dozen fantasies that no simple cherry stem should really inspire. "I thought that was just a thing people <em>said</em> they did."</p><p>Jane looked at the twisted cherry stem before smiling sheepishly and shrugging. "I went through a phase," she explained, rolling her eyes again. "I wanted to be The Hot Girl or whatever."</p><p>"Mission accomplished. That's hot as hell."</p><p>"It's pretty hot," she agreed with a snort. Flicking her fingers, she sent the stem on its way, flashed a smile, and got back into the car. </p><p>Jed settled into the driver's seat, feeling strangely off-kilter. "Ready to go, Cherry Jane?"</p><p>She snickered as she deposited a pit into an empty potato chip bag. "Onward drive, Mister DJ."</p><p>Silence was inevitable on a long road trip. Usually good music covered up anything that wasn't already companionable, but even with the radio playing tunes they could agree on, there was something setting Jed's teeth on edge. Jane felt it, too. From the corner of his eye, he watched her leg hop up and down with nervous energy, softly crinkling the paper bag in her lap. </p><p>"Jane—"</p><p>"Hey, I, um… I have a confession." </p><p>They paused and glanced at each other. Jed turned off the radio. Jane stopped eating her cherries. "Okay," he said, and felt sick to his stomach, like the first time he'd tried MDMA. Last month.</p><p>She stared down at the bag on her lap. "It's kind of awkward—actually, really awkward."</p><p>"All right..." His heart drummed in anticipation.</p><p>"My name's Chloe," she blurted, "not Jane. I mean, that's my middle name, but not my first, so—" </p><p>"So you go by your middle name?" And then he found himself blinking more than was normal as he processed the fact that <em>he hadn't even known her middle name</em>. Or, well, her <em>first</em>, it turned out.</p><p>"No. That's the thing. My name is Chloe—Chloe Jane Decker. I don't go by Jane."</p><p>Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he worked not to swerve around the winding highway. "<em>What</em>?" </p><p>"That's why I've been weird about you meeting my mom and, like, the one friend I had left after I quit acting. I...didn't want you to know."</p><p>Jed slammed his hand on the car's hazard lights and pulled onto the shoulder of the road. A driver honked behind them and sped past. Fighting with his seat belt, Jed turned sideways. "You're a <em>celebrity</em>?"</p><p>"Oh. No? Not really."</p><p>"That lady back there wasn't making it up, was she? You were in something. Some movie?"</p><p>"No, she wasn't." Jane—<em>Chloe!</em>—sighed. "I was in a movie. Well, I was in several movies, but there was one I starred in when I was nineteen. It was called"—she cringed—"<em>Hot Tub High School</em>."</p><p>Despite the gravity of the situation, Jed paused a long moment before breathing out a laugh. "That sounds like porn."</p><p>Her brows lifted. "I mean, it wasn't. Not really. But I was, uh, topless, I guess." She nodded jerkily. "In one scene. It was really just for comedy."</p><p>Jed stared at her, at a loss. "You were topless."</p><p>"Is that a problem?"</p><p>He held back another laugh. "Uh, not for me." </p><p>It wasn't like tits didn't come out at raves. He couldn't be judgmental and didn't mind the show. But thank God he'd not taken Jane—Chloe—home on this road trip. If anyone in his family knew her from a movie like that, he'd never hear the end of it. His grandma might die of a heart attack.</p><p>Reaching out, he grabbed her nearest hand. Her fingertips were sticky with cherry juice. "Why didn't you just tell me?"</p><p>"Because… You were the first guy in a really long time who hadn't seen that film. Who saw...<em>me</em>. Not topless Chloe Decker or 'Poor Chloe Decker, her dad died' or 'Chloe Decker, isn't that Penelope Decker's daughter?'"</p><p>"That's your mom's name?"</p><p>"Yeah," she sighed. "She's an actress. Kind of. She was mostly in B movie sci-fi monster flicks." She gave a lopsided smile. "She really isn't around a lot. She makes most of her money on the nerd circuit."</p><p>Jed was quiet as he thought and ran his thumb over Jane's knuckles. So many things made sense now. The way she'd doubted his intentions when they'd met, the aversion to crowds—even, sadly, the way she'd been on their first night together. </p><p>"Are we okay?" she whispered.</p><p>Her brows were pinched, and tears had turned her blue eyes glassy. He didn't know what his face looked like—stunned, maybe. But he still loved her and squeezed her fingers to try to tell her in the only way he could. </p>
<hr/><p>Time could change the way you saw something. Good things could look bad upon further inspection, or bad things, good. And sometimes what had seemed funny at first really wasn't at all. </p><p>That's what he'd thought Jane's—Chloe's—confession was at first: funny. A quirky little blip in their relationship. But the longer they were on the road, the more the truth festered inside him. The more he realized he was a grade-A idiot. </p><p>He was grieving, he supposed. Feeling the loss of the girl he thought he'd known—or at least been <em>trying</em> to know. How could it be that the one time he learned the truth, he wanted to go back to the lie? Not because he didn't think he could love Chloe Decker, like he'd loved Jane, but because Chloe was…a little piece of L.A. royalty, even if she and her mom weren't well known. And that reminded him that he was just a guy from Nebraska piecing together other people's music and sounds. </p><p>When they returned to L.A., they went their separate ways on a hug and a kiss. No argument, no angst, no breakup, but they both knew they needed space. She went back to her odd jobs and endless interviews. He went back to DJing.</p><p>In his free time, he began to research.</p><p>Chloe Decker had an IMDB page. She'd first appeared in a Christmas commercial for Sears, but quickly moved from advertising into TV—as a secret lovechild in a daytime soap, a school brat in a sitcom, an immigrant girl in two episodes of <em>Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman</em>. She'd spent three seasons as a neighborhood kid on a Disney show. As she got older, she appeared in music videos. With the help of an old forum post, Jed even found her in an NSYNC video, reclining in an old car while wearing an American flag bikini top. </p><p>She'd worked in the music industry—<em>his</em> industry—and never told him.</p><p>He was losing his fucking mind.</p><p>In a clearance tub in the back of a bookstore, he found a copy of <em>Hot Tub High School</em> buried under <em>Donnie Darko</em> and <em>Meet Joe Black</em>. Parting with five dollars, he took it home and popped it in his DVD player.</p><p>Admittedly, he'd thought it'd be cool, seeing the girl he loved in a movie, but really it was just weird. Her character wasn't her (which he guessed meant she was a decent enough actress), it was awkward knowing anyone could watch this and see her breasts, and when she kissed the male lead, it didn't look anything like what kissing her felt like.</p><p>When the movie finished, he sat dully through the credits and then stared at the DVD menu, where "Jennifer Winters" sat at the edge of a hot tub, gently kicking water, her graduation cap tilted on her head.</p>
<hr/><p>Jed's grandpa had once told him love was not easy, but it was worth it. You didn't have to like or know every part of a person to love them. You just had to believe in who they were and could be, and who you were and could be with them. </p><p>It was with this belief that he found himself on Chloe's doorstep a week after learning the truth. It was late, and he was sweaty after a show, but he couldn't wait any longer.</p><p>Having texted her beforehand, she was expecting him and opened her door as soon as he knocked. He couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. Her hair was in a messy pile atop her head, and she was wearing shorts and that old LAPD t-shirt. Her father's, he now understood. Because her father had been a cop. One of those big details she'd left out.</p><p>"Hey," she said, white-knuckling the edge of the door.</p><p>And he kissed her. He almost expected it to feel different—for it to be a <em>Chloe</em> kiss, not a Jane kiss, or maybe even for it to feel like how Jennifer Winters' kiss looked. But it was the same kiss she always gave: sweet, with an edge.</p><p>They didn't talk, though they probably should have. She pulled him inside, and he went willingly, feeling almost faint with relief. Removing their clothes, they wedged themselves on her daybed, desperate to be close.</p><p>Cherry Jane liked it rough and wild, but they were rougher still than usual. Frustration bled out of him and into her body, and she fed him her frustration in return. He wasn't sure they were even frustrated at each other, maybe just with life and circumstance and questionable timing.</p><p>He held her close, one finger twisting a lock of her hair. "You know you're just Cherry Jane to me now, right?"</p><p>"I don't mind a nickname," she said, and her laughter was sweet across the turntable on his chest.</p>
<hr/><p>Things were good. Renewed, even, like those parts of California where the plants needed the destruction of a wildfire to grow. Chloe settled into a job as a receptionist at a nonprofit that provided legal aid to under-served communities. Jed recorded his album and watched it sweep through social media, even if it never climbed high in the charts.</p><p>Things were good, but Chloe was restless, even if she spoke happily of her work now. Nine-to-five wasn't enough to use up her energy, and there were only so many mysteries worth reading.</p><p>A strange sort of anxiety plagued Jed as he searched for ways to keep her entertained. They did day trips, and he pulled her into his increasingly strange life as a DJ. Then he brought home some E he'd bought from a person he trusted. </p><p>He didn't think she'd go for it, but she surprised him, and now they were left half-dressed and sprawled out on a blanket he'd spread across his apartment floor. They held hands and talked in bits and pieces about the past and each other.</p><p>"I feel like I'm missing something," Chloe confessed. Ever since he'd learned her real name, she was full of confessions, though thankfully none so life-altering for him. </p><p>"Like what?"</p><p>"I don't know. This can't be all there is, right?" </p><p>"With life, you mean?"</p><p>"Yeah. I mean, I like my job a lot. I like helping people, even if I'm just at the front desk, but… There's got to be more I can do."</p><p>"Maybe," he said, "but you can't fix the world, Cherry Jane." </p><p>"I just want to feel something real, you know?" </p><p>Sitting up on one hand, he looked down at her. "You can with me." He smoothed hair away from her sweaty forehead. "I love you."</p><p>Whispering it back almost shyly, she pulled him into a kiss. For a while, they didn't talk, and for once they loved each other slowly, gently. He felt closer to her than he ever had before.</p><p>"Sometimes I think about being a cop," she said later, in that strange space where thoughts were clearer, but couldn't quite be considered sober yet.</p><p>"You'd be a good cop."</p><p>"You think so?"</p><p>Of course he did. Jed knew she could do anything. He had faith.</p>
<hr/><p>It wasn't often they ate somewhere expensive. Money wasn't so tight anymore for either of them, but nice restaurants in L.A. cost an arm and a leg. Normal people avoided them out of principle. So when Chloe made reservations at Fortuna, Jed knew something was up.</p><p>With colorful walls covered in large, framed floral paintings and mounted stringed instruments, Fortuna was on the trendier side of fancy, but the portions were still offensively small and the waiters intense. Jed hadn't felt this uncomfortable in an eatery since he'd choked down coffee in Voltage over a year ago.</p><p>Their second appetizer landed on the table, with little more than six stalks of asparagus, some glorified ham, and a bit of melted butter. What the fuck. Meanwhile, Chloe was talking about the weather.</p><p>"I can't do this, Cherry Jane," Jed interrupted, rubbing his brow. </p><p>"What?" </p><p>She looked so guilty it was painful. For an actress, she could be awful at lying.</p><p>"Whatever <em>this</em> is. You clearly brought me here for a reason." In an attempt to lighten the mood, he joked, "Do you have another alias to tell me about?"</p><p>Her smile was so disingenuous he almost feared he'd nailed it. Looking down at her lap, she dug through the small clutch she'd brought with her. Something clanked on the table beneath her palm as slid her hand toward him. When she pulled away, Jed stared at the spare key to his apartment. </p><p>A punch in the gut felt less awful. "What's this, Cherry Jane?"</p><p>"You know what it is," she replied softly.</p><p>"But…" He shook his head. Things had been so good lately. "Why?"</p><p>"I need to go figure out who I am."</p><p>For the longest time, he didn't even know how to respond. "What, you can't go get another job and be with me now?" He spoke loudly in his frustration.</p><p>"Okay, don't"—she glanced around the restaurant—"don't cause a scene, Jed."</p><p>"Right. Wouldn't want anyone to notice us and take pictures. Newsflash, Chloe, they take my photo now, not yours. Nobody even thinks of <em>Hot Tub High School</em> anymore. Just you."</p><p>He was lashing out, but he couldn't stop himself.</p><p>"Yeah. Yeah, no, I get that." She sighed and then threw her hands out. "But that's just it? I'm <em>still</em> living in the past. My dad's been dead for <em>years</em>. It's been <em>years</em> since I stopped acting. Life's gone on. But I haven't. I'm just stuck, even at the legal aid center."</p><p>"It's not been all the same," he pointed out. "You've been with me."</p><p>She nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah, and that's been...it's been really nice. But I think I need to go do something more than just be"—she smiled, and tears gathered in her eyes—"a cool DJ's girlfriend."</p><p>Jed looked into his unfinished glass of white wine, his chest tight. "You know I love you, right?"</p><p>"I know that."</p><p>"I'm not stopping you from doing anything." He leaned on the table and looked at her as sincerely as he could. "I want you to go and be whoever you want or need to be." He just wanted to join her for the ride, just like he'd dreamed of her on his tour bus.</p><p>"Well, I want to be a cop, like my dad."</p><p>It almost made him smile, even as his heart hurt. "Then be that, but don't pretend I'm stopping you and that's why you have to break up with me."</p><p>They stared at each other, both hurt in their own way. </p><p>"I just feel…" Chloe paused and swept her fingers beneath her eyes. "I just feel I need to be someone else. Someone I can't be with you right now."</p><p>Maybe one day it'd be different, his heart thought hopefully.</p><p>They asked for the check, neither seeing any reason to bother with a main course. Outside the restaurant, the night air was cool. Chloe turned to Jed, her hair moving gently in the coastal breeze. She was beautiful and completely out of his league for reasons he couldn't name, but absolutely could feel. Cupping his face, she lifted up on tiptoe and kissed him.</p><p>"Thank you," she said. "You...you don't know how much I needed you when you showed up in Voltage."</p><p>"Any time, Cherry Jane. Just call me up."</p><p>And he meant that, whether he should or not. </p><p>Jed lingered outside Fortuna and watched her walk away. It hurt, how unsurprised he felt by it, even if the timing was unexpected. The problem had been the same since day one. Chew through to the pit of Cherry Jane, and you found someone incredible. Someone destined for something Jed couldn't name, but knew would come, even if she couldn't see it yet herself, even if the path there was paved with unexpected things and people. Like a boy from Grand Island, Nebraska, who liked to make people dance.</p>
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